


mortals, i guess

by fizzyguy



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood, Nudity, Other, Rituals, Self-Indulgent, but not really, romantic implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzyguy/pseuds/fizzyguy
Summary: you join hidan after his rituals.he never knows why.
Relationships: Hidan (Naruto) & Reader, Hidan (Naruto)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	mortals, i guess

You join him in those moments after his rituals. He is raw from the intimate connection with his very own god. He doesn’t share him with anyone anymore. 

He lay in blood, the blood of many, of others whose lives had meant both nothing and everything. His high is now low, in those few moments he is left in the mortal world that he barely fits in anymore, those moments he can't ignore. Those moments he wishes he could be up high, not here, not anymore. Hasn’t it been long enough? 

It has been long since he achieved enlightenment. What was next?

You strip. He is never clothed until they need him to be. For someone like him, that politeness is never thanked. 

The blood on his sallow skin is beautiful. The touch of other lives all over him, sinking into his cuticles. His pallor makes him look overly mortal, in place in a hospital bed. His bones show through his skin. How much longer will he need them? 

You step into the pattern on the floor, making sure not to touch the blood it is drawn with. Your skin is not worth their sacrifice. His hand is already reaching up for you, now as natural as breathing. This is not the first time. 

You bring yourself down to him, laying yourself atop him, bringing your face into his neck. His skin is cold, feverish with sweat and slick with blood. Your skin feels almost dry in contrast. His hand holds your head. You don’t move but press your lips to his skin.  
He breathes, does he need to?

“How is this anything?” he starts. He never finishes.

“How is this anything,” you say in return, muttering into his marble skin. Impenetrable. “when you have tasted a god?”

You do not know how to worship; you worship him anyway. His mouth does not belong to you, speaking prayers in a language long dead. you say nothing in his ears when you whisper. How can you?

You kiss his eyes as he closes them. His fingers bury themselves in your hair. He wonders why you stay, when he is not yours.

So do you.

**Author's Note:**

> howdy, this is my first post on here. i hope you enjoyed! im pretty new at writing, so any opinions are welcome. lots of love! <3


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